Ego Credere
by s n a r k y - t y p e
Summary: The only thing Jack can think is that it should feel cold. And it does, sort of, but not like it has before. He can feel the ice numbing his body, but not so much that it hurts. And it feels good – better than it should. So much so that he shivers, not from cold, but from fear. "I'm about to give you the break of your life, Chilly Willy." /oc&jack, with a twist.


_PROLOGUE_ –

The only thing Jack can think is that it should feel cold. And it does, sort of, but not like it has before. He can feel the ice numbing his body, but not so much that it hurts. And it feels good – better than it should. So much so that he shivers, not from cold, but from fear. Why is he here, on the pond, out in the open without any memories of _anything _before this? The only thing he can hear is the Moon whispering in his ears. The name _Jack _Frost over and over and over. Jack, then. That's what he's called – even if there is currently no one around who knows him, no one around to _call _him it. After a while of walking, of finding out that he has weird Winter powers, he finds a town set into the hill. Where his feet touch, snow follows, and he wonders if anyone here will be able to tell him who he is and where he has come from. Or what he is supposed to do with this aching, wonderful cold inside – or how to get _rid of it. _

The first child he sees walks right through him. He talks, but no one answers. He tries to touch, but his fingers slip through the bodies of the humans as if they were butter. Jack is scared now, terrified, and he wants only to find a place to curl of up and hide from the world – hide from this place and these people who cannot see him or touch him or _help _him.

"They don't believe in you." He swivels so fast when he hears the voice behind him that he slips on the ice beneath his feet and lands on his rear in the snow. The person laughs and Jack scowls. "Careful," the voice says, amused. "Slipping on ice is what got you into this mess in the first place."

The other boy is tall, taller than Jack by at least half a foot and his hair is a myriad of different colors. Sometimes it's blue, sometimes it's purple, sometimes it's orange – but most of the time it is a muted, beautiful red. The boy's skin is pale, as pale, if not paler, than Jack's and he has a smirk on his face and freckles scattered over his cheeks and his nose. His eyes are a deep green that match the color of grass in the springtime and his clothing is brown – brown, like Jack's, but sewn into actual clothing like pants and a shirt and a darker brown vest. He's wearing a smile that is mischievous, but not happy; cheerful, but sad.

He is a contradiction and confusion and the only thing that Jack can think is that _this boy _has _answers. _

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean,_" the red head draws out the word, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his pants and leaning forward on the balls of his booted feet. "That no one can see you because you technically don't exist, Frosty."

"Of course I exist! You can see me – and if you can see me then that means I am _definitely _here, standing here… in front of you. _These people _don't exist! They're – they're _illusions_ –"

"Is that so?"

Before Jack can register that the boy has interrupted his rambling– before he can even really reply in any way at all – the mystery boy is in front of him. Much, much too close. So close that his smirk is even more pronounced. "'Cause, you see, _Jack._ I'm the _Master of Illusions. _In fact, I'm the Master of a lot of things. And the way I see it, you're a lot more of an illusion than anyone in this place."

"But – but no, no, I – I – I'm real! I'm real, I swear! The Moon, it – it – it _said _I was _real!" _

Red pulls back, almost floating in the air, and his smirk slowly turns into a small smile. "You have spirit. Are you? A spirit, that is? I'm wondering."

_No, Jack. You are no sprite or Winter Spirit. You are the actual Spirit of Winter. The embodiment of everything cold and wonderful in this world. You _are _winter. _

The voice is in Jack's head and somehow he knows it is the Moon talking to him. The person that lives there, maybe. If there is a person on the Moon or if maybe it's just the Moon itself talking. Either way, Jack is relieved to give an answer to the question.

"I'm the Spirit of Winter. Not a spirit and not a sprite. I… I _am _winter."

"Cool beans."

"Cool… what?"

"Beans. Anyway, this is nice – having someone my own age around. Well, someone who _looks _my own age. I just turned a hundred and fifty seven yesterday. Nice, eh? I'm getting old. Like a grandpa. 'Cept no one cares because no one _believes _in _me _either."

There it is again, that jibe about not being believed in. Jack doesn't understand it and he doesn't even get why this strange person is talking to him. But at least _someone _is talking to him and he's grateful for that at least. But belief? It sounds so important – something he should _know _about. No matter how hard he tries, he can't understand what the boy means. And then something occurs to him.

"How d'you know my name?"

"We all knew you were coming. Manny up there –" he points skyward toward the Moon. "—always warns us when something important happens. 'Us' meaning _me _and… and those _other _guys. The Guardians, the 'special team' that the kids are always going on about. You know, North, Tooth Fairy, Bunny… they're the only ones right now. Cool, huh? I even got to steal some Christmas presents off North's sleigh once. That was, like, fifty years ago though and he caught me – gave me _a serious _time out, or threatened it anyway, but I escaped! I _am _the 'Master', after all."

The red head continues to ramble and Jack blinks, losing track of what the boy is speaking about after five minutes of talking. Finally, his voice tapers off into silence and he stares at the frosty Spirit of Winter with a frown. "I'm Ross, by the way. But Manny and the Guardians and everyone call me the Prince of Thieves and the Master of Illusions. I could steal that stick right out of your hands and you probably wouldn't even notice it until I was long gone. Nice trick, right?"

Jack curls his hands protectively around the staff and gives Ross a suspicious glance, backing away a couple steps. "I guess."

Ross snickers and reaches forward, brushing a hand through Jack's bangs. They are long, reaching over his eyes and accentuating his already white face. He steps away from Ross once again, puts distance between the two of them. The 'Prince of Thieves' sighs and lurches forward, grabbing Jack's ear with two fingers and hauling him forward.

"Manny gave me this really important task, Frosty. He's kind of pardoning me for all my heinous thieving crimes, so I gotta get you out of this crappy situation or I'm totally _cooked. _Like, probably literally. And that doesn't sit well with me and all – still got tons of stuff to steal in the world, ya' know – so I've decided to help you. Get it? _Help._ I'm about to give you the break of your very short life, Chilly Willy."

"My name isn't Chi –"

"So, what's it gonna be? The heartless world, never believing in you, forever alone, or me and my nice warm – well, cold, I guess, with you in it – lodgings?"

Jack thinks it over, swallowing thickly when he realizes he doesn't know what exactly to do. He's just like a kid, only newly awakened into a life he understands nothing about. What choice does he have but to go with Ross?

So, with a sharp intake of breath, he makes his decision.

"You've got a deal."


End file.
